David tore down the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“I’ll see to it.” Angus wasn’t one of my guys, but I’d quickly grown to trust him and depend on him—perhaps more than I should have.
I ended the call and immediately dialed Sabrina. It went straight to voicemail. A prickling of worry flashed across my mind. I dialed again. Voicemail.
“Did Sabrina have her phone when you left?” I asked David.
“Yeah, she was in your room.”
I was about to dial her again when my phone lit up with an incoming call. “Yeah?”
“Boss, it’s Morris, from the house.” The guard’s voice was wheezy.
“What is it?” I gripped the phone hard. “Is Sabrina okay?”
“They burned it down.” He coughed, a gurgling sound that didn’t bode well. “Took her. The Russians took her. They just left.” Another violent cough. “It was Opal. She let them in.”
“Opal.” I slammed my hand on the dash. “What the fuck?”
He coughed and tried to speak again, but it was garbled.
“I’m sending an ambulance. Hang on, Morris.” I ended the call and dialed 911, reporting a shooting and fire at the house.
I dialed one more number.
“Yeah?” Con’s sleepy voice hit me on the second ring.
“How fast can you get here?”
“What’s wrong?” The sleep cleared from his voice in a heartbeat.
“The Russians took Sabrina.”
“Fuck.” A rustling sound and Charlie’s murmured voice in the background. “I’ll call in a favor at the small airport out here. Jump a plane, be there in two hours, tops.”
“I don’t have that long.” Desperation leaked into my voice. “Dmitri took her. He could be hurting her right no—”
“I’m leaving the house. I’ve got to make some calls. Hang on till I get there.” The line went silent, and I wanted to throw it against the windshield.
David pulled into the emergency room of Taylor Hospital, a rundown joint south of Philly. At least they’d have lots of experience with gunshots. We jumped from the car, and David gingerly pulled Peter into his arms and carried him inside.
A nurse rushed out from behind the front desk. “Sir, you can’t just—”
“He’s dying.” David’s cold voice shut her right up. “Save him. If you don’t, you’re next.”
The nurse blanched and reached for the phone.
“If you aren’t calling a doctor, you’re dead.” David strode forward, his brother limp in his arms.
She swallowed hard, her dark eyes wide. “I-I’m calling our emergency surgeon to the OR up on three. Take the elevator”—she pointed to it—“to the third floor. There will be a nurse waiting to start triage.”
“David, I’m sorry, but I have to—”
“Go get her.” He headed toward the elevator, his broad back blocking my view of Peter. “Keys are in the ignition. Once he’s out of the woods, I’ll come help.”
I didn’t have time for any reassuring words or to worry about Peter. My thoughts turned to Sabrina, to what sort of hell she was going through. Dashing from the ER, I jumped into the SUV and raced out of the parking lot as an ambulance rolled up, its lights flashing.
A few more phone calls, and I was on my way to Sam’s to pick up some heavy-duty firepower. I would save Sabrina or die trying.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sabrina
My mother eyed the door as I used the knife to hack a hole in the drywall between Dmitri’s bedroom and gun room next door. “We don’t have long.”
I redoubled my efforts to quietly destroy the wall, my hands coated in white dust as I created a vertical slit with the knife. “Do you, um”—I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead—“do you scream sometimes?”
She hugged her arms across her middle, the white t-shirt we’d grabbed from the closet several sizes too large for her. “Yes.” Her wide, haunted eyes made me ache for her.
“Can you do that? I’m going to try to punch through here, and the sound would cover it.” I stood and lightly knocked on the drywall, double checking the stud locations so I could avoid them.
“I can scream.” She walked to the bed and sat, then closed her eyes. Her body shook, as if she were reliving one of the many traumas Dmitri had visited on her. A blood-curdling cry ripped from her lungs, one that would reverberate in my nightmares for the rest of my life.
I punched the wall, pain bolting up my arm with the effort. Another scream, and I hit it again, denting the drywall and pushing it inward along the path I’d scored with my knife.
A low chuckle came from the hallway, Dmitri’s henchman getting off on the pain. I fisted both hands and punched, my knuckles burning.
“Stop.” I shook my head and backed away. “It won’t work.” I’d barely made any progress, and a few of my fingers had gone numb.
“He’s usually done by now.” She covered her face. “They’ll come soon. They’ll find out, and they’ll kill us.”